If the Hand is Hard
by RavenclawDoctorSilveo
Summary: In which Astoria makes friends with people of whom her family would not approve, and then forgets their names. Wizards and witches are picking up the rubble, trying to cling to what they have left. People are being tried left and right, and Astoria Greengrass's friends and family are at odds. Again. NOT SURE WHERE THIS IS GOING. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello,**

**This is my first fic, so please be nice. However, don't go so far as to not tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. :)**

**I sort of got the idea for this fic from a verse in a Rihanna song:**

_**When the war has took its part**_

_**When the world had dealt its cards**_

_**If the hand is hard,**_

_**Together we'll mend your heart**_

**(from "Umbrella" by Rihanna)**

**All recognizable characters belong to the amazing J K Rowling, not me. I only made up the names for Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass.**

* * *

"Another one sent to Azkaban," muttered Andrew Greengrass as he unfolded _The Quibbler_.

"Who, _dearest_?" His wife, Lydia, looked over at him from her place at the grand piano bench. (She did not think of Andrew as "dearest" in the least. She disagreed with him on almost everything. In addition to being rather unreasonable, she was also quite sarcastic.)

It was Family Time - an hour-long discussion in the parlor before dinner. Mrs. Greengrass insisted on it. Her husband didn't mind it; it meant that he knew what was going on in his family. Their daughters, however, hated it.

Daphne was outgoing, but she lacked social tact. Her younger sister, Astoria, had a few friends, but was unwilling to share anything personal. Their mother usually dragged news out of them, though.

"'Melody Rowle was sent to Azkaban late last night,'" Andrew read out of the newspaper. "'She was passing on information to her brother, Thorfinn Rowle, a known Death Eater.' He's dead, thank goodness, but she was tried all the same. Shacklebolt's a great minister, in my opinion."

Lydia frowned at him. She (and Daphne) had passively supported Lord Voldemort, which was one reason why her marriage was crumbling.

"When are all these trials going to stop, Daddy?" Daphne whined from the big red chair next to the window. Like the other furniture in the room, it matched the walls.

Every room in the manor had matching furniture, walls, drapery, and paintings - except for Astoria's room, which was painted dark blue with stars on the ceiling. The stars were charmed to move like the real constellations. Her walls were paintings of Hogwarts, the sea, and a stream in a field somewhere in America. (She had gotten the idea from a book her friend Carol had read years ago, called _On the Banks of Plum Creek_. Carol had gotten it from her aunt, whose goal was to tour every country in the world.)

Daphne, however, seemed to want to be as self-absorbed as possible. She whined. She was loud and obnoxious. She was so demanding that one of the house-elves had taken to drinking firewhisky just to get away from Daphne for a while.

Astoria, however, generally tried to do everything she was told, didn't ask stupid questions, and never wandered off.

Daphne had just asked a stupid question.

"Why can't they be done already? The Final Battle was almost three months ago!"

Astoria resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Daphne loved gossip, and she considered something "old" once a month had passed. She clearly did not realize that the war would have long-lasting impacts.

This was just one of the many differences between Astoria and her older sister. In fact, they were very different in all but two ways, the first if which being the fact that they looked very similar. They both had brown, shoulder length hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and freckles.

The second similarity was that both girls were in Slytherin house, although Daphne had left school already. Astoria was looking forward to her first school year without Daphne reporting everything back to their parents.

"All the Death Eaters have been caught, right?" Daphne asked.

Their father chuckled. "Hardly," he said. "I reckon it will be just like last time - Death Eaters putting forth what information they know, just to stay alive and sane."

"What makes you think we won't have a repeat of last time?" asked Lydia.

"Because everyone saw Voldemort die," said Mr. Greengrass, "and we've got a new minister - one who knows exactly what he's doing. If Shacklebolt messes up, he'll do it once, and then never again."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I know it's short, but it's really an introduction. A prologue. :)**

**Did anyone spot the Doctor Who reference?**

**Reviews would make me happy. They let me know if I should continue or not. Toda rabah. :)**


	2. The Sorting

**A/N: Sorry for not posting this earlier. I know you don't want my excuses, but I really need to vent without anyone I know judging me, and here seemed like a good place to do it. So skip this part if you want to.**

**I just found out that my best friend tried to kill herself. She is on anti-depressant medication and is seeing a psychiatrist. She hates our school and it is part of the reason she is so depressed. She also has lots of asthma and allergy issues, and she just found out she is anaphylactic to nuts and peanuts. I feel so guilty because I wasn't there for her. She needed someone and I didn't know. **

**"Don't snap," she told us a few months back as we were standing around the school kitchen warming our jands by the heater. "Sooner or later, one of us is ging to snap. Just don't let it be you." But I never imagined that it _wouldn't_ be me. I never thought it would be _her_.**

**I think I am starting to get a bit depressed, because I no longer enjoy yhe things I used to and I feel like crap a lot. I feel like my parents are overprotctive, and I just want to grow up already. I want to be able to move out. Do my own thing, with my own friends who have their own problems that I can relate to. I _can_ relate to this friend who is depressed, but I can't really tell my parents that, can I?**

**So anyway, I need to stay strong for her so I'll be on this earth a while yet. Thanks for listening. 3**

* * *

**Disclaimer: All characters that you recognize are owned by the amazing J K Rowling. However hard I wish upon a star, I will never be her. **

* * *

"Everybody, listen up!" The Head Boy rolled his eyes as the chatter did not cease.

"SHUT UP, EVERYONE!" yelled the Head Girl. Everybody quieted.

"Thanks, Alice," said the Head Boy quietly.

"No problem," replied Alice, before turning to the expectant prefects crowded in the large compartment of the Hogwarts Express. "So, welcome, fifth- and sixth-year prefects. Welcome back, seventh years. You may think you've heard this speech before, but there have been some changes, so listen up and keep quiet.

"You'll each get a patrol list, which tells where you'll be patrolling this year. The role of prefect comes with many responsibilities. You must know the password to your common room - if you have one - and you have the power to add or deduct points from any House. You may not, however, take away points from fellow prefects," she added.

"In addition," continued the Head Boy - a Slytherin by the name of David MacDonald - "all prefects will be helping the teachers repair the castle. Many places have curses on them still, and some just hold too many memories." His eyes got a faraway look, and Astoria guessed he was remembering his girlfriend, a Ravenclaw who would have been a seventh year this year.

Alice quickly covered for him. "You'll be divided into pairs. You will work on a task for as long as it takes, and when you've finished, you will be assigned another task, with a different person. You may be paired with a teacher once in a while.

"We will be undoing curses and rebuilding things-" here Alice glanced at Hermione Granger, who had returned to complete her education. Granger had turned a staircase into a slide and put a wall at the end of it during the battle. "-But we'll also make things nicer, so they won't hold so many sad memories," Alice finished.

She allowed a miment if sulence for the prefects to think about those memories. Astoria could see that a young boy holding a camera was choking back tears, and a slightly odd-looking Ravenclaw girl glanced around, as if to keep her mind occupied on other things, to keep the memories at bay. Astoria herself looked desperately around the compartment, so as not to think of the people she had watched betray their fellow students, the curses exploding the school as she ran with her fellow classmates. She did not think about the teachers she had lost, did not think about her one decent acquaintance who had been friendly to her, and then gone back and died, and she definitely did not dwell on the fact that her own sister had followed Pansy Parkinson without a word, never glancing back as she refused to help her fellow students, her teachers, and her beloved school.

"You all can use the prefects' bathroom," MacDonald said, breaking the silence. "It's located on the fifth floor, fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered. The password is _rosemary_. Got that, everybody? Okay, then, here are your lists; ask either Alice or me if you have any questions." He and Alice handed out the lists._  
_

Astoria glanced down at hers. Her first patrol was the left corridor on the seventh floor. She also had to accompany the third years into Hogsmeade the first, third, and sixth weekends. She looked at the second list. She woukd be fixing a stone pillar first, and she would do it with Luna Lovegood.

Astoria glanced over at the Ravenclaw seventh year, frowning. Luna appeared serenely uninterested in her lists; she was flapping her hand next to her ear as if to shoo away a bothersome fly.

_Just my luck_, Astoria thought as she folded up her papers and tried to get through the crowd to the door of the large Prefects' compartment. _My first year back without my sister, and I'm paired with the battiest person ithe whole school - she's even worse than Trelawney in a particularly good mood_!

* * *

"I'm starving," announced a new second year.

"I'm not." The third year girl clasped her hands. "I'm too nervous," she whispered to her friend as Astoria lead them to the tables in the Great Hall. "My little brother's getting Sorted."

"My parents didn't want us to come back," a fourth year told Astoria, "not after last year. But my aunt Molly says that education is better than nothing, even though _her_ son Ron isn't coming back to finish his seventh year."

Astoria looked at him. She didn't realise that the Weasleys had Prewett cousins in Slytherin. "Well, I and the other prefects are going to try to make this year better than all the years before. Especially last year. Although the cruciatus curse would be better than last year," she added under her breath as she sat down next to a few second years at the end of the table.

All heads turned to the front as Professor Flitwick, the new Dputy Headmaster, placed the Sorting Hat on a stool and opened the grand double doors at the other side of the hall woth just a flick of his wand.

Astoria enjoyed looking at the faces of the soon-to-be-Sorted first years. Some wore expressions of pure terror; others glanced delightedly around as if the Great Hall was the greatest thing they'd ever seen. Astoria imagined their faces when they saw the moving staircases and the friendly ghosts. _Priceless_. A couple of first years looked absolutely confident. They would probably end up in Slytherin.

She vaguely remembered her own Sorting. She knew she had been sure she would go into Slytherin, because almost all of her family had been in that house. She hadn't wanted to be in the same jouse as her sister, though...

"Alcott, Susanna," called Professor Flitwick, reading off his list of first years.

A nervous-looking girl walked forward. The Hat was barely on her head when it cried out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The Hufflepuff table cheered. It was always an honor and sort of a contest to see which house would get the first first-year - not that anyone could do anything to influence the Hat.

"Almer, Veronica."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Ballstead, Andrew."

"SLYTHERIN!"

Everyone was quiet. Astoria sensed the mood if everyone else in the Great Hall shift. Nobody seemed to know what to do. The Hufflepuffs were looking away, as if the sight of a Slytherin was something unseemly. The Fryffindors were all glaring, and the Ravenclaws looked down at their table. The Slytherins noticed these things,of course, but they looked at each other and simultaneously raised their arms and cheered. Their voices stood out in the silence of the others, but if there was one thing Slytherins were known for, it was hiding their true feelings.

As Andrew Ballstead walked quickly tn the Slytherin table, Astoria couldn't help but make a fist. _Why does everyine seem to hate the Slytherins? _she thought angrily. _If they just bothered to get to know us, they wouldn't think we're all lying, spoiled brats with Puteblood supremacy ideas and prejudices so deep we hate all muggle-borns! We're not all like that! Not that I blame them - the ones who helped in the battle stayed quiet. The ons that are niticed are the mean ones, the evil ones, the ones who would betray their school - like that awful Pansy Parkinson._ Daphne was in Pansy's clique. Daphne was a sycophant and Pansy was an even bigger one, at least in Astoria's opinion.

"Coriander, Michael John Louis."

"SLYTHERIN!"

David MacDonald sat down beside her as "Holland, Elizabeth" was being Sorted into Gryffindor. "Why does everyone hate me?" He mumbled as he tried to talk unnoticed by the teachers, which was no easy task as they were six feet away from the High Table. "I just don't understand how people's minds work," he sighed as he watched the Hat mull over "Logan, Anna."

Astoria glanced at him, surprised. "Nobody hates you here," she said, indicating their fellow Slytherins.

"The Gryfindors hate me for being a Slytherin, the Hufflepuffs hate me for not being fair with the pairings, the Rwvenclaws hate me for being a Slytherin Head Boy after the battle - they don't think McGonagall made a wise choice - and the Slytherins all hate me for pairing them with Gryffindors." He made a face. "It wasn't my idea! I to,d McGonagall it wouldn't work, but no," he sighed, " they must learn to 'get along.'"

"_I_ don't hate you," Astoria said flatly. She smiled as "Stebbins, Matthew" walked over to the Slytherin table and took a seat next to his older brother on Astoria's other side. "If anyone tells you you're rubbish, you can take points away."

"I suppose."

She elbowed him in the ribs. "Oh, come on, lighten up a bit. Look, there's 'Yen, Alyssa' being Sorted into...into..."

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the Sorting Hat, and the Sorting was over.

* * *

Nobody wanted to remember, but in a castle so old, it was extremely difficult to stifle the memories lurking inside every pillar, every staircase, every corridor, just waiting to come out and suffocate the survivors like the hot, humid air. Each fallen wall, each twisted balcony, every blasted pillar and hexed ceiling reminded those who had survived of those eho had not; every cursed staircase and statue told of work not yet finished, and of revenge still unclaimed.

The pillar that Luna and Astoria were set to work on was in the gardens. David MacDonald had told Astoria that the partners could arrange to meet whenever they had time, and the teachers would be checking on them every month to make sure they weren't slacking off. They would have to fill in their time on a form, but otherwise, everything was up to them. Tis meant two things: they could do whatever they deemed necessary, and thry woukd have to figure out what to do by themselves. The teachers were too busy to bother, and the other prefects had work of their own, so the pairs could not ask for assistance.

Luna sent a message after dinner through a Hufflepuff fourth-year asking when Astoria's free periods were.

Astoria looked at her schedule - she had free time before dinner on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and before lunch on Thursdays and Fridays. She wrote a brief note telling Luna so, and added that she thought that they should meet on the weekends.

She was on her way to the owlery to send her note, when Peeves, cursing loudly, dumped pail after pail of rubble on her head, causing her to curse back at him and cast a Shield Charm above her head.

"Go away, Peeves," she muttered, "or I'll call the Bloody Baron."

Peeves only stuck his tongue out at her and shook a mountain of dust from a nearby statue all over the walls and floor of the corridor.

"Peeves!" Astoria scolded. "Professor Slughorn just cleaned this corridor with Mr. Filch. He's not going to be happy about this."

"Sluggy the slug won't have to clean it up," snickered Peeves, and he threw a piece of rubble at the ceiling, which squirted what Astoria hoped was water everywhere.

She swore. Peeves cackled. Someone screamed.


	3. Crucio

**A/N: Hello, there. Sorry for my long absence. Hugs and chocolate to aleera, darkdaysofsummer, and Cookies94 for your reviews. My friend is feeling a lot better, but it's now...drumroll...ALLERGY SEASON! yay. So I'm feeling really horrible. I even had to stay home from school today, which is why I had time to finish this up. So I guess allergies are good...yeah, who am I kidding?**

**2,379 words**

**Review, please!**

**Also, I don't have a beta so all errors are mine**

* * *

The voice had come from an unused classroom down the hall - the same one in which the Carrows had tortured students the previous year. Nobody wanted to use it now because of the rubble still in it and the memories it held for half of the students.

Astoria broke into a run, wand drawn. The voice had belonged to a small person, perhaps in second year. Astoria may have been angry and insensitive at times, but she cared for the young students of Hogwarts. She hoped they would have better years at the school than she had.

The door was locked, with an anti-Alohomora charm on it. Astoria smirked and took a pin out of her hair. Many wizards didn't realize just how effective ordinary objects could be, especially if spells were easier to use. She jammed the hairpin into the lock, but it was spit back out at her.

"Ow!" She hissed, looking down at her arm. The hairpin had been transfigured into a tiny flame.

"Reducto," a voice whispered beside her, and the wall exploded.

Astoria stared openmouthed at the spot next to her.

"Close your mouth," said the person, amusement evident in his voice. "You look like a toad."

Her mouth opened wider in response to this. "A _toad_?" she spluttered.

"Yep. Okay, maybe a tadpole," the voice amended. "Now shut up and follow me."

Astoria heard movement beside her, then in front of her, but she couldn't tell where the person was.

"How can I follow you if I don't even know where you are?" she demanded. "Much less _who_ you are. For all I know, you could be a Death Eater."

"That would be funny if I were a Death Eater. Trust me; I'm not."

"You could be lying."

"Fine." The form of a boy slowly appeared in front of her. "Happy now?" He was a Gryffindor prefect, and he was glaring at her like she was a particularly disgusting spider.

More screams sounded from inside the room. Astoria strode in with the boy following her.

She could not believe what she saw. Two Slytherin fourth-years, Andrew Brutus and Daniel Marshall, and Tom Link, a Ravenclaw fifth-year, were standing on a table, facing two Hufflepuff first-years, a teenage Ravenclaw girl, and a small Gryffindor boy.

"Crucio!" whispered Link, and the Ravenclaw girl screamed out in pain as she was subjected to the torture by her housemate.

None of the boys seemed to notice Astoria and the Gryffindor boy next to her, but one if the Hufflepuffs did. She clearly thought Astoria was going to join in - because she was a Slytherin.

Rage boiled up inside Astoria. She walked right up to Link and slapped him in the face. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

The two Slytherins turned on her, wands raised, but the Gryffindor prefect shot a spell at the table, which collapsed. The boys fell on top of the Ravenclaw girl, who was unconscious. Astoria quickly stunned the Slytherins and Link as the Hufflepuffs scrambled out from under the fallen table. The young Gryffindor, meanwhile, was glaring at Astoria - and at her Slytherin tie.

"_You_," he spat, trying to look tough but only succeeding in looking cute.

Astoria raised one eyebrow. "What about me?"

"How do you do that?" interrupted one of the Hufflepuffs.

"Do what?"

"Raise one eyebrow. I can't do it." The girl had one eyebrow raised so far up it almost disappeared into her bangs. The Gryffindor prefect laughed. Astoria rolled her eyes.

"Look, you," she said to the second Hufflepuff.

"Matthew," he interjected.

"Fine, Matthew - go get a teacher."

Matthew glared at her for a moment, clearly resenting a Slytherin giving him orders, but she shoved her prefect's badge in his face and he raced off.

Cold hands grabbed Astoria from behind. She spun around and stared straight at Tom Link. He had woken up from the Stunning Spell. Without hesitation, she drew her arm back and punched him - right _there._ He screeched, and yelled, "Crucio!"

The spell missed - barely - but it hit the little Gryffindor boy square in the face.

He screamed, and Link shot another spell at Astoria. Her scream mingled with the little boy's, and the pain...oh, the pain...no, don't concentrate on the pain...it was agony, pure agony...she fell to the ground.

The Gryffindor prefect had knocked the Ravenclaw down with a punch in the nose.

The Ravenclaw girl was coming to. She opened her eyes, saw her housemate, and tried to get up, which was no easy task since two still Stunned Slytherins lay on top of her.

Link noticed her, crawled over, grabbed her head, and whispered, "You'll pay for this." Then he kissed her, _hard_. Then he pulled away and ran out of the classroom, leaving the girl with blood from his nose smeared on her cheek_._

* * *

"Miss Greengrass, please explain what happened."

They were in Professor McGonagall's office with Professor Sprout.

Astoria bit her cheek, tempted to lie, but decided that it would only be used against her, especially because she was a _Slytherin. _

"Well, I was going up to the owlery to send a letter to Luna Lovegood about our schedules," she began. The Ravenclaw girl snorted. Astoria glared at her before continuing. "Peeves was dumping all this stuff on me near that painting of those Quidditch champions that are always snogging, and I heard someone scream, so I went to the door of that classroom the Carrows tortured us in, but I couldn't open it. Then _this _boy blasted the door apart, called me a _toad_, and then decided to stop being invisible and actually show his stupid face. So we walked in, and those Slytherins and a Ravenclaw-"

"Tom Link," said the Ravenclaw girl.

McGonagall raised one eyebrow. Astoria saw the Hufflepuff girl cast an admiring look at it. "Isn't he your..."

"Boyfriend, yes. At least, he _was_. Not anymore." Her voice was filled with disgust.

"Can I finish, please?" Astoria glanced around as if asking the opinion of everyone present. "_Thank_ you. So they were on the table, crucioing these students," she pointed to the Gryffindor and Hufflepuffs, "and the boy - Link - was torturing this girl-"

"Medea," interrupted the girl.

"-Medea - and I walked in, and the other Slytherins turned to me, and this boy-"

"God, why can't you remember anyone's _name_?" The Gryffindor prefect rolled his eyes. "Luka Armstrong, at your service." He bowed. Astoria wrinkled her nose at him.

"So Luka smashed the table, they all fell on that girl-"

"-Medea-"

"-Link grabbed me, I hit him in-" she turned pink and did not continue.

"She punched him in a place no man wants to be punched in," said Luka. "Then she-"

"I'm doing the telling, thanks."

"You're welcome."

She glared at him. "I got crucioed, this Gryffindor boy did, too-"

"-Alan-"

"-and Luka Stunned the Slytherins."

"And then I woke up, and Link ran away, and Professor Sprout came," said Medea in a voice that made sure Astoria knew not to mention the kissing-and-revenge bit.

"Why were you there, Mister Armstrong?" Asked Professor McGonagall, unfazed by Astoria's long description.

"I had prefect duties down that corridor, and I heard a scream, so I disillusioned myself and bumped into Greengrass."

"Thank you. Now let's hear _your_ side of the story, Miss Pierce."

"My mother likes for me to write her a letter every day," began Medea. "I try, but sometimes I just can't do it. She's a worrier, my mother - she's always sending me advice and Muggle safety kits. She's a half-blood; her mum's a Muggle.

"So I was going up to the owlery right after dinner to send her my letter, but as I was walking by that painting of the Fountain of Fair Fortune - you know, the one where Asha and Altheda are always giggling and kissing - Tom came out from behind a tapestry, and started snogging me.

"I couldn't stop him; he dragged me off to the classroom, where the Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, and Alan were waiting. The first years were already being tortured, and I tried to run, but Tom held me back,

"'I've got some good sport,' he told them, and shoved me on the floor. Then the pain came and I don't really remember after that, except that the table fell, and Brutus and Marshall fell on top of me and Tom fell on top of them.

"The next thing I remember is feeling the Slytherins lying on me, and - and - and then Greengrass and Armstrong carried me over to Professor Sprout, who brought me here," Medea finished lamely.

_Why doesn't she want McGonagall to know that Link swore revenge for something Medea didn't do? _Astoria thought, and she glanced at Medea, hoping to determine from her expression what the answer was. But the Ravenclaw's face showed no emotion.

* * *

The Hufflepuff girl looked at Astoria uncertainly when they stopped in front of the entrance to the Hufflepuff dorms. Astoria, deep in her thoughts about Medea, paid no attention when the girl tugged on her sleeve.

"Greengrass!" said Matthew loudly.

Astoria started. "What?"

He smirked. "That got your attention. Can you go, please, so we can get in?"

"Do you have a password?"

"No, we've got a test, I think, but I don't really know, because those _Slytherins _grabbed us before we could get in. Tanya Hornby said-" before he could finish, the girl elbowed him in the ribs. "Oi! What was that for?" he asked indignantly.

"She's a Slytherin, d'you want to go blabbing to her all about our common room? I personally don't see why she had to come with us; but no, Sprout needed to talk with McGonagall, and look where that landed us: with you telling her all our secrets! She's a bloody Slytherin, you idiot!"

"That does it." Astoria was beyond upset. "Why do you just _assume_ that all Slytherins are evil?" she shouted. "That's like saying all Gryffindors are pigheaded, all Ravenclaws are nerds, and all Hufflepuffs are wimps. Not everyone is wholly good or wholly bad; not everyone gets to choose. Is it _my_ fault I'm a Slytherin? Do you know what the Sorting Hat says? It says the characteristics of a Slytherin are _ambition_ and _cunning_. Does it say anywhere that we are evil? Huh? No, it doesn't. Some of us fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Some of us came back. Some of us wish we could've come back, but we were underage. I couldn't come back, but I would've liked to. So don't get in my face about being _evil_ and _mean_ and full of pureblood supremacy nonsense. It's rude to stereotype. If you do it to another Slytherin, someone's very likely to hex you. So don't mess up if you value your sanity. And I'd like a thank-you for rescuing you two."

They just stared at her. Finally, the boy muttered, "Thanks," and turned away. The girl looked at Astoria for a few moments longer.

"What are you gawping at her for?" demanded Matthew, "come on, Kayla!"

"Yes, why are you staring at me?"

"I'm just trying to figure you out," said Kayla.

Astoria laughed. "Let me give you a piece of advice: don't look too hard at a Slytherin for too long. We're too complicated, and we usually only let on side face the world. You can't know what's _really_ going on, Kayla. You can't figure us out. We keep too much inside. So don't try."

* * *

"Medea! Oi - Medea!"

Medea turned. Her face had been cleaned so it no longer sported Link's dried blood. "Greengrass?"

"Yeah, are you heading to Ravenclaw Tower?"

"Yeah." Medea looked at her suspiciously. "Why?"

"It's right near the - where I'm going."

"The Slytherin common room is near Ravenclaw Tower?"

Astoria internally cursed herself. No one was supposed to know the location of the Slytherin dorms.

"Oh, you haven't given the location away," Medea said, as if she could read Astoria's thoughts. "I just didn't expect them to be close. So what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I need to deliver a note to Luna Lovegood. I was going to the owlery to-"

"Oh!" yelped Medea. "I forgot to send my letter. Oh, Mum's going to _kill_ me."

"Oh, that was real? I thought you just made that up as an excuse." Astoria was sorely tempted to say 'your loss,' but she checked herself just in time. "She'll just have to wait," she said instead.

"No, you don't understand," Medea insisted as they started walking down the corridor together. "My mum wants me to only talk to certain people, read certain things. She'll be absolutely _livid_ if I don't send this to her _tonight_. I'll deliver your note, I guess. Luna's so...different...and you meet her, and you think, she can't possibly believe that, and then you realize that she actually _does_, and her father's even more batty than she is - every other issue of _The Quibbler_'s got something about Crumple-Headed Snorebacks or something - and you start to think Luna's totally out of it, but then she surprises you and says something really wise. Only, sometimes the wise part's hidden in with all the nonsense.

"...Only maybe it's not actually nonsense?" she wondered aloud. "Maybe they really do exist. Huh. Anyway, I'll go on up to the owlery and then I'll deliver your note." She turned to find Astoria halfway back up the corridor, staring at her. "What?" she asked self-consciously. "Did I say something?"

"You said a lot of things," answered Astoria, "none of which made any sense to me."

"Ah, well, everyone says I talk too much. But I suppose we all have one thing we're good at, right?" She smiled sadly and walked away, leaving Astoria very confused.

* * *

**A/N: So I saw a fic where the author asks questions of the readers at the end...so here's your question: Who is your favorite member of the Black family?**

**P.S. Please vote in my poll; you can see it in my profile page.**

**P.P.S. If this gets 10 reviews I will write something about the Black sisters :)**


	4. Charms

**A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know, I haven't updated this in a while and you don't want to read this anyway. Just saying, I don't do the disclaimer for every single chapter; I don't really see the point. But I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine. I also have no clue how to get a beta, so all mistakes will remain mine.**

* * *

The next day, Luna Lovegood came over to the Slytherin table to talk to Astoria. Never in a million years would Astoria have imagined that the odd pro-Potter Ravenclaw girl would seek her out to talk to her. Of course, it wasn't because of anything Astoria had done. It was only because of her duties that Lovegood even knew Astoria, but the latter was grateful for anyone who would talk to her, given the more-prominent-than-ever prejudice against Slytherins. But she was talking to Astoria, so that was good. Even if the person talking to her didn't seem really prejudiced against anything, and not altogether there, anyway.

The Ravenclaw looked pale, as if she hadn't slept in a few days. Astoria wasn't sure she looked much better. The nightmares would not go away, and Astoria knew that however bad her memories were, Luna Lovegood's were far worse.

"Good morning, Lovegood," Astoria greeted her fellow prefect.

"Morning, Greengrass. It's a lovely day for jacklacking," Lovegood said dreamily.

"Sorry, what?"

"Jacklacking. You've never played?" Lovegood seemed genuinely surprised that Astoria didn't know what she was talking about.

"Nope," said Astoria. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well," began Lovegood, sensing the forced change in subject, "your schedule and mine seem to be so different that the only free time we have is on every other Sunday, and the Hogsmeade weekends."

"Oh." That would make it quite difficult to try to make any headway on un-cursing a pillar.

"Yes, well, I was thinking we could work on our pillar this Sunday."

"Sure."

"Great," said Lovegood. "Enjoy your breakfast. Oh, I do adore Trillies."

"Excuse me?"

"Trillies," said Lovegood as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "That's what you're eating, isn't it?"

"No, I'm eating pancakes."

"No," said Lovegood firmly. "They're definitely Trillies. It's a house-elf specialty."

"Oh, okay." Astoria decided to just play along. "Goodbye, Lovegood."

"Goodbye, Greengrass. Oh, you've got a wrackspurt flying around you, did you know? Better get rid of it." Astoria took another bite of her pancake and wondered how in the world she was going to be able to deal with working with the oddity that was Luna Lovegood.

* * *

"Damn," muttered Astoria, walking into her first class that day. There were only two empty seats: one next to a girl who was sobbing, and one next to a girl chatting to a boy four rows down and a letter in her hand. Astoria, wishing to avoid getting wet with tears (she got that often enough from her own eyes), took the second seat.

"Hey, Greengrass," Medea greeted her.

Astoria stared. "I didn't know you were in sixth year."

"Wow, you really are bad with remembering stuff. Who'd you think I was, a first year?" Medea combed her auburn hair with her fingers and caught a note passed to her.

"I just haven't noticed you before today," said Astoria defensively.

"You once gave me a tip on Quidditch in third year," Medea reminded her, opening her note.

"You remember things from _third year_?"

"Obviously not," said Medea sarcastically, blowing a kiss to a boy seated behind her. "Of course I would remember that, stupid! I used the tip!"

"Did it work?"

"Am I Quidditch captain?"

"I don't have any idea; are you?"

Medea rolled her eyes. "My god, you don't pay attention _at all_, do you?"

"I do to my own house," Astoria defended knowing it was a weak excuse and one that she would be made fun of because she was a _Slytherin_. Medea looked at her, opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

Just then, Professor Flitwick walked in. He was obviously expecting the chaos that reigned on the first day of school, by the look on his face, and he had to do his Silencio charm three times before it worked on all of them. Medea glared at the Charms professor. He smiled back at her climbed on top of his books so he could begin the roll call.

After each had put their hands up when he called his or her name, he lifted the Silencing charm.

"So are you rubbish at Charms?" Medea asked Astoria immediately.

Astoria set up her parchment and textbook. "Charms is my best subject."

"So are you rubbish at it?"

Astoria turned to glare at her. Medea looked innocently back. "I got nine OWLs, I'll have you know," said Astoria hotly.

Medea leaned back in her chair. "I got eleven," she said lazily.

"That's because you are a bloody Ravenclaw."

"Oh?" Medea smirked at her. "Is the great Slytherin Greengrass admitting that Ravenclaws are better?"

"I didn't say that!"

"And you're not going to say anything else," Professor Flitwick interrupted them. "Five points from both Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Now pay attention, both of you."

"So, then, you're okay at Charms," whispered Medea the moment his back was turned.

"The point is," said Astoria, hastily copying the notes on the board and opening her textbook, "are _you_ rubbish at Charms? 'Cause if you are, I'd look good next to you, and I might get a better grade."

Medea let all four legs of the chair drop with a _bang_. "You—you—Slyth—_cheater_!" she spluttered. "No wonder no one likes you! You pick on people weaker than yourself!"

Astoria gaped at the atrocity of this. Not only had Medea blown her cover and made a ruckus in Flitwick's classroom, not to mention made Astoria look bad, she had gone and _insulted Astoria and her house_. That fired her up instantly. She had not missed the Ravenclaw's slip-up. She knew that, to the rest of the school, _Slytherin_ was basically synonymous with _cheater_, _liar_, and even as far as _Death Eaters in training_.

Professor Flitwick looked pointedly at the two of them and cast a quick _Silencio_. "Today, we'll be practicing the Magic Release charm," he began in his squeaky voice. "This charm is like the _priori incantatem_ phenomenon in that it reveals the last bit of magic used. However, the difference is that the Magic Release Charm makes the physical magic come out of whatever the charm is used on.

"Now," he continued," this is a dangerous spell to use, because it releases unknown magic, which may be, and in our case most likely is, hostile. It is also not a charm to much as an _un_charm: it makes whatever has been charmed or hexed release the last piece of magic it absorbed. This charm is particularly unknown," he added proudly, "since the staff at Hogwarts developed it ourselves.

"I want you all to divide up in pairs and practice. The incantation is '_eximo magus_,' and you must point your wand directly at the object—hold it straight—and then, as you say '_eximo magus_,' draw your wand backwards, as if pulling out something. Keep your wand straight. You should also use Shield charms to maneuver the magic into a box of a sort."

Astoria looked at Medea. The Ravenclaw looked nervous. Astoria didn't blame her, although she did feel some satisfaction that she was superior in her fearlessness, however slightly.

"The magic you draw out," Flitwick droned on (however much one can drone on with such a squeaky voice), "will be raw magic, magic untouched by any controlling form. It will draw on some of the characteristics of the person who drew it out of their own wand. This can be very dangerous, as some of the spells within the walls of this castle were cast by powerful Death Eaters. The raw magic will be contained and studied.

"To get the uncharm right, you must speak the incantation with deliberation and determination. You must fully believe that you can do it. You must have utmost confidence in both your abilities and your right to take the magic. Any questions?"

A Hufflepuff girl raised her hand. Astoria tried to remember her name. Lane? Lang? Lame? Professor Flitwick nodded at her.

"Yes, Miss Troy."

Oh. So not Lame, then.

"I was wondering who is going to study the magic," said Troy in a high-pitched voice. Astoria noticed Selena Omena, one of her housemates, looking infatuated. Astoria rolled her eyes.

"Ah!" said Flitwick. "Excellent question. The teachers and staff will be studying some portion of it; some of it will go to the Ministry and St. Mungo's, and then we will have a bit for the seventh years to work on. Next year, should you choose to come back to Hogwarts, you will get to work on some as well. Any more questions? Good! Wands out, please."

Astoria brought her wand out of her pocket. Flitwick conjured a desk, levitated a block of stone from the supply closet behind him and placed it on the desk. He beckoned then all to gather around it. Since a few of them hadn't returned for since the war for various reasons (including death and/or torture of family members, Death Eater association, and/or fear of retaliation by former Death Eaters and Dark allies and supporters), all of the sixth years fit around that one desk.

"I want all of you to repeat the incantation, _without_ the wand movement," instructed Flitwick. "Repeat after me: _eximo magus_." He flicked his wand, and Astoria found that she could talk again.

"_Eximo magus_," the students chanted in unison.

"Good, but with more feeling," said Flitwick. "And try to sound as if you actually expect something to happen. Remember, you _want_ to draw that last bit of magic out; you _need_ to have it out; you are _instructing_ it, _telling_ it to come out. You—here, perhaps this will be a little easier. Speak like you're Professor McGonagall. You have had her teach you for six years now, so it won't be hard to imagine her tone. She speaks as if she knows that whatever she says will be done. She's commanding. Try to use that tone when speaking the incantation. Try again, everybody: _eximo magus_."

Everyone but Medea repeated this. Medea was too busy doubling over in a fit of silent giggles to say anything. Astoria looked at her disapprovingly.

"Oh," gasped Medea, clutching at her sides. "Sorry; I was just imagining Professor McGonagall as a student learning this incantation and the picture in my mind was very funny. Sorry, I'm so sorry."

"It's quite alright, Miss Pierce. Just try to pull yourself together and we'll try again," said Flitwick kindly. Astoria glared at Medea until she stopped laughing and glared back. "Good," said the tiny Charms professor once they were quiet. "Try again, but this time, you've _really_ got to mean it. I don't want to hear the halfhearted murmurs. That's not going to work. I need a commanding tone, loud and clear. Like you're the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Now, repeat after me once more: _eximo magus_."

They did the wand movement next, and Astoria tried not to laugh in scorn over the feeble attempts of a Hufflepuff girl, Cally Kraughers or something, to draw her wand directly back. She glanced over at Medea, who was frowning at her. Astoria rolled her eyes as if to say _What? What are you looking at?_ and Medea sighed and muttered "Slytherin," before turning back to her wand.

"Good, good!" said Flitwick. "Now, put the two together and try it on the block."

The block, as it turned out, was not actually filled with Dark magic but magic that McGonagall had done on it. Once the magic left it, Flitwick explained, it would unTransfigure and go back to its original state, whatever that was. However, it was unwise to use that method regularly, because it could render some Transfigured items useless and they could crumble. It was forbidden to use it on humans who had been Transfigured, because they couldn't absorb magic in the first place and would most likely die in an attempt to remove the magic by means of a spell.

By the end of the lesson, they had managed to get a sort of green wispy thing to come out of the block. It wasn't bad for a first attempt, Flitwick told them. He said it was actually pretty good. Of course, they did have some good witches and wizards (purebloods, mostly) in the sixth year, so it did make sense that they would be good. Not that Astoria bought into the pureblood supremacy idea, but she did think that purebloods were generally better and more able. There was nothing particularly wrong with half-bloods and muggle-borns, but purebloods were definitely better. She didn't much care about blood-traitors; she was a quiet girl (or so she liked to think), and didn't really care about society (well, she knew society, but she didn't have any friends in it, so she didn't care. Right?).

"Oi! Greengrass!" Medea called to her as soon as they were out of the Charms classroom. Ahead of the two girls, some Gryffindor boys were hexing the terrified first years going in. Astoria rolled her eyes, aware that her sister had done the same thing to her because Parkinson was doing it. Daphne and Astoria shared such a close bond. They even sat next to each other at the Slytherin table on birthdays and Christmas and everything.

Astoria turned to the Ravenclaw, hands on her hips. "What? No offense or anything, but I kind of need to get to my next class."

"You did mean to be offensive."

"Welcome to the wonderful world we call Hogwarts, where the Slytherins reside. What did you want to say? Follow me; we both have Transfiguration next; you can talk to me on the way. But I walk quickly. So keep up or shut up."

Medea looked at her for a moment. "Okay, then I'll be brief." Astoria rolled her eyes. Since when was this annoying girl brief? "I don't hate you," said Medea.

"How very considerate. Listen, Pierce, I really have to-"

"No, really. I don't. Just don't hate me. That's all I'm asking. And I'm not trying to be prejudiced against you Slytherins or anything, it's just that I never really had a real friend from outside my house and the only people who ever talk to me are Luna Lovegood and Katie Lang. So please don't hex me or anything. Just don't be mean. And lay off a little on the sarcasm."

Astoria raised an eyebrow. "You don't know many people, do you? You think I'm sarcastic? I'll let your comments go for now, but if you're going to be my acquaintance, or even a sort of friend, you can't go making anti-Slytherin remarks. If you do that again, I will be forced to hex you. Now you've made me late for Transfiguration; thank you so much for taking time out of my day. Come _on_, Pierce, let's go. Don't just stand there. We've got a new teacher now McGonagall's the Headmistress, and I want to make a good impression. It helps if she's a Slytherin; I just hope it isn't a bloody _Gryffindor_."

"Wow. I've never heard you talk so much."

"And you have never been so quiet while I'm talking. Look, we're here. Let's go meet Professor Cattermole."

* * *

Astoria was glad to be rid of Medea for the rest of the day. Talkative as the Ravenclaw was, she was beginning to grow on Astoria and the latter wasn't sure how to feel about that. What if they did become friends? Medea wasn't a pureblood; Astoria's parents would be angry, and Astoria had lost the best friend she had during the battle. She normally didn't envy anybody else, but she now envied the girls who made friends easily. Nobody understood that some people had to work at being nice and keeping in touch with people.

She was also rambling, she realized, as she made her way down to the dungeons after dinner. She needed to stay alert, so she could give a stern talking-to to anyone who insulted her house the next day. She retired to her bed without even a glance at her Transfiguration homework; they didn't have that class until after lunch and she would have time to do it during their free period before and during lunch.

In another part of the castle, a Ravenclaw sixth-year was owling a letter to her mother. A Gryffindor prefect was arguing with his fellow Gryffindor sixth-year prefect over whether to use a charm or a hex on the staircase they had been given to repair. Two Gryffindor seventh-years, one seventeen and one almost nineteen, were talking about a certain Hero of the Wizarding World in their dormitory. One Ravenclaw girl was dreaming about her mother, glad to not be plagued by nightmares. And Astoria was sleeping in her dormitory, blissfully unaware that the next day would bring many insults and fights, and that even the teachers could be a little prejudiced.

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**A/N: Thanks to you all for sticking with this story. Hugs and chocolate to Cookies94, rivertonrose92101, and ImSuperSiriusGuys for reviewing. You know how much that means to me. **

**Now for the question:**

**My favorite Black is Narcissa, although I'm partial to Andromeda as well. **

**Next question (if y'all are even interested):**

**What is your OTP?**


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